


A Mother's Love

by tarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarie/pseuds/tarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa Malfoy will do anything to protect her son from harm. And by 'anything' I mean Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mother's Love

**Author's Note:**

> First few lines come from _Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince_ by JK Rowling.

_"We're with you whatever happens," said Ron. "But, mate, you're going to have to come round my mum and dad's house before we do anything else, even Godric's Hollow."_

_"Why?"_

_"Bill and Fleur's wedding, remember?"_

_Harry looked at him, startled; the idea that anything as normal as a wedding could still exist seemed incredible and yet wonderful._

_"Yeah, we shouldn't miss that," he said finally._

_His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last day of golden peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione._

"No, we definitely shouldn’t miss the wedding, mate," Ron agreed. "Unless you fancy Howlers every day for the rest of your life."

Harry loosened the fingers he had curled around the fake Horcrux and managed a small grin. "Don’t really fancy that, no." 

"I should hope not," Hermione said primly.

"No," Harry said firmly, "I don’t." Thinking back to the very first Howler from Mrs Weasley that Ron had got after they had flown the Ford Anglia to school, Harry winced. "I’d like to keep my hearing, thanks. Might come in a bit handy from time to time."

Their conversation was interrupted by Professor McGongall’s voice booming from across the lake. "The Hogwarts Express will leave the Hogsmeade platform for King’s Cross within the half hour. It is time now for all students to return to the Entrance Hall and wait with your Heads of House for the carriages."

Squinting against the sunlight, Harry watched as McGongall ended the Vocalisation Charm and headed back to the castle. 

"Wonder what she thinks about being Headmistress now," said Ron, shoving his hands in his pockets as he fell in step beside Harry and Hermione.

"Dunno," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. Running his thumb lightly over the locket in his hand, he couldn’t help but to think how much the trinket had cost him. He wondered how much more the real Horcrux would cost, how much he – or someone else he cared for - would have to pay.

As they went inside the castle and made their way down the corridor toward the Entrance Hall, Harry was suddenly struck with the realisation that he wouldn't be seeing any of Hogwarts - the familiar corridors, the Great Hall, the Gryffindor common room - ever again. He had meant what he said to Ron and Hermione earlier; he wasn't coming back next year. He had to stay with the Dursleys long enough to ensure that his mother's protection would be renewed for another year and then he would be off in search of the remaining Horcruxes. There wasn't any telling how long the search would take him, but Harry was certain that the quest would last at least several months. A sour taste settled in the back of Harry's throat and he felt a pang of longing as his footsteps sounded against the old flagstone. Hogwarts had been his home for the last six years. He couldn't leave for good without having one last look around, one last moment in Gryffindor to take with him on his journey.

Harry made up his mind as they walked past the doors to the Great Hall; he had to see Gryffindor one last time.

Clearing his throat, Harry stopped and knelt down, fiddling with the laces on his shoes. Ron and Hermione paused, waiting for him. 

"Go ahead," said Harry. "I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall. There's something I've forgot upstairs."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You're not going to get that book, are you?"

Ron frowned and looked to Harry and then Hermione. "Not now, Hermione," he said quietly, resting his hand on her forearm.

"No." Harry stood, noticing the faint flush that appeared suddenly on Hermione's cheeks as Ron gave her arm a squeeze. "I'm not getting that book. I swear." He had retrieved the Prince's book from the Room of Requirement earlier that morning, but Hermione didn't need to know that. 

"You're not?" Ron asked, his eyes wide with surprise. 

"I said I wasn't," said Harry, shrugging again. "Go on; I won't be long."

Hermione cast another suspicious glance his way before Ron led her by the elbow in the opposite direction.

Before long, Harry was in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. All the boys' trunks had already been taken downstairs and the elves must have been in to clean while everyone was at the funeral; the room was spotless. Deep red, velvet curtains hung open on each neatly-made four-poster. Gone were traces of sap from Neville's _Mimbulus mimbletonia_ on the floor and butterbeer spills on various bits of bedding. The windows were wide open, a nice breeze wafted about, and Harry knew he was really going to miss this place.

Running his hand over his duvets, Harry sat down on his bed, the mattress sagging under his weight. He drew his legs up onto the bed and began to tuck his feet under himself when he noticed it: a small parcel wrapped in brown paper placed on his pillow. Curious, he placed a palm on the bed for leverage and bent over, reaching for the parcel. There weren't any distinguishing marks on it as far as Harry could see. Studying the shape, Harry turned the parcel over in his hands. The only people who had ever sent him parcels at school were Sirius and Professor McGonagall, so it had to be from his Head of House. Wondering what Professor McGonagall could have possibly sent him and why she wouldn't have told him to watch the post or invite him to her office to give it to him, Harry undid the string and unwrapped the paper.

Nestled inside the parcel was a small tin brightly decorated with lemons. Harry's brow wrinkled for a moment as he stared at it. Sherbert lemons had been Professor Dumbledore's favourite sweet. Maybe Professor McGonagall meant it as some sort of comforting gesture; Harry wasn't sure. Holding that tin of sherbert lemons in his hand _was_ oddly comforting though, and Harry could do with having one. That sour taste still lingered in his mouth and a sherbert lemon would be a welcome, different taste . Opening the lid, Harry dipped his fingers into the contents, icing sugar glaze sticking to his fingers as they pinched a sherbert lemon between the tips. Just as Harry started to withdraw his hand from the tin, it happened: he felt the familiar hook-behind-the-navel sensation of a Portkey and found himself being jerked forward at a dizzying speed. Wind howled and colour swirled around him and then his feet slammed into the ground; it was over.

Head swimming and dread settling into the pit of his stomach, Harry started as the tin clattered to the ground, sherbert lemons scattering everywhere. 

Just where exactly was he?

_"Wands out, d'you reckon?"_

Cedric Diggory's voice rang in his ears and Harry gritted his teeth. 

"Yeah," he whispered to himself. "Wands out." 

Pulling out his wand, Harry looked around him, unable to see much in the dim light. Déjà vu set in and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention; the last time Harry had caught a Portkey unaware, he had been ambushed by Voldemort and Cedric Diggory had been murdered.

Fingers gripped the hilt of his wand tightly and Harry sent Cedric silent thanks for the reminder, wherever he might be.

Squinting into the darkness, Harry glanced left and right and then left --

Just as he began to incline his head left again, he caught movement out of the right eye and froze. Countless incantations whirled about his mind and no less than ten waited on the tip of his tongue to be uttered. Slowly he raised his wand hand and rotated his wrist to the proper casting form. Any second now...

"I've been waiting for you, Harry Potter," a feminine voice sounded from out of the shadows.

Narcissa Malfoy.

" _Incarcerous_!" Harry flicked his wrist and conjured thick ropes, sending them in the direction from which her voice had come. " _Lumos_!" The tip of his wand illuminated and, after taking a moment to adjust to the sudden burst of light in the room, Harry blinked. Malfoy's mum stood in the corner opposite him, bound head to toe in rope. She struggled against her bindings and protested, but Harry ignored her as he carefully inspected the rest of the room. 

After he was positive they were alone, he cast several charms on doors and windows. Once that was done, Harry walked slowly around the room, taking careful note of his surroundings. Wherever they were, it was definitely Muggle and definitely a storage space of some sort. Hanging on walls and stowed on shelves and carts were various things made out of leather. Harry hadn't ever been around a horse before, but he'd seen horse races a few times on the telly at the Dursleys'. Those were saddles sitting on carts, and he recognised the thing on the wall that looked like a muzzle - it was called a bridle, he thought - as well as a few other items here and there. 

At first he didn't understand why Narcissa Malfoy would bring him to a place like this, but the more he thought about it, it made perfect sense. No one would think to look for him here. If Ron and Hermione noticed that he was missing, they would look for him. After Hogwarts was scoured and there was still no sign of him, surely the Order would become involved in the search. They would concentrate on a few areas known to have had Death Eater activity and then branch out to other regions, which Harry was quite sure did not include nondescript Muggle places, especially nondescript Muggle places designed to hold equipment for tending to Muggle animals.

Harry ran his hand over a few leather straps bunched together on a hook on the wall, then turned and pointed his wand at Narcissa Malfoy. "This wasn't your idea of having a go, was it? 'Cos this is pretty pathetic."

"Potter, I didn't bring you here to cause you harm," she said quietly, straining one last time against her bindings before giving up with a soft sigh of resignation.

"Of course you didn't," said Harry mockingly. "You only brought me here to kill me, right? Oh, wait. I _forgot_. You're one of Voldemort's bootlickers. It wouldn’t do to kill me yourself because that’s His job. You brought me here so you could tidy me up with hexes and bonds before handing me over to Voldemort himself...all to make up for your daft husband getting himself caught at the Ministry, I reckon." Harry tucked his wand under an arm and clapped loudly. "That's brilliant of you, Mrs Malfoy. Really." Crossing over to Narcissa, he lifted her chin up with the tip of his wand, staring down at her hard. "You're even more of a loser than your husband."

To her credit, Narcissa did not flinch or break Harry's gaze. "Please," she said simply.

"Please _what_?" he asked, taking a step back. He did not lower his wand.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled a long, slow shaky breath. "Please listen. I won't take much of your time."

A scathing remark was on the tip of Harry's tongue but he bit it back. There was something about the little hitch in her voice, the imploring look in her eyes, the way her nostrils flared slightly, that made him think he ought to hear what she has to say. His curiosity was also growing by the minute. It wasn't easy to acquire a Portkey, and she must have gone to great lengths to get it to him undetected. 

"You shouldn't. They'll be looking for me soon, if they aren't already."

"Remove these ropes first."

"I’ll do nothing of the sort until you surrender your wand." Harry flicked his own wand for emphasis and Narcissa’s eyes followed the tip as it slashed dangerously close to her cheek.

She was silent for a long moment, and she closed her eyes as though she could not bear to look on Harry any longer. Her chin dropped to her chest and long blonde hair fell in her face, framing it like a golden curtain.

"Here," she said finally, raising her head and locking gazes with Harry. His eyes wandered down her bound frame and he could see her right hand struggling against the ropes.

"Don’t move." 

Keeping his wand trained on her, Harry dropped to his knees and reached his free hand up to Narcissa’s hip. One moment he wiggled his fingers between the rope and in the next he was removing Narcissa Malfoy’s wand. Tucking the wand an inner pocket of his robes, Harry rose to his feet.

"The ropes," she reminded him.

"Right," Harry muttered, glancing around the room. His eyes lingered on some of the Muggle horse equipment and he knew then what he ought to do.

" _Nox_." The tip of his wand went out. " _Finite Incantatum_." The ropes made a clunky sound as they landed on the floor. In the next beat, Harry swished and flicked and away went those bits of leather he'd been eyeing earlier. 

When he said " _Lumos_ " again and light flooded the room, Narcissa Malfoy’s arms were bound by leather and her hands raised high above her head, wrists attached to a rafter by more leather.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Narcissa tested out her new bonds, tugging and twisting the straps.

"Just playing it safe," Harry said. "I’m sure you can understand."

Narcissa stilled and looked up at him, and their eyes locked. She didn't say so, but Harry knew she understood.

Harry also knew that he didn't want to be here any longer than he had to be. Right now he should be sitting in a carriage on the Hogwarts Express with Ron and Hermione, eating Pumpkin Pasties and Chocolate Frogs from the trolley witch while they planned which Horcrux to go after first, and that's where he wanted to be more than anything. "So what d'you want?"

"You're going to help me."

Harry sputtered. He would have laughed if he thought there was the slightest possibility that she was joking. But there wasn't, so he didn't. 

"Why should I do that?" Harry asked, not breaking her gaze as he moved in front of her.

"Come closer."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Narcissa sneered, and Harry was strongly reminded of her son. "Because I asked you to do so, Potter. Have you always been this obstinate, or is this the result of your borrowed time with dearly departed Sirius? He never was one for manners, the cur."

Harry closed the small gap between them, holding his wand to her throat. "You don't talk about him," he said through gritted teeth.

"You came closer," Narcissa noted. 

Harry was not in the mood for games. "Why should I help you?" he snapped.

His eyes drifted to where the narrow length of his wand was pressed against her neck. It was long and slender, almost too slender. Further down his eyes went and he frowned; her robes were in disarray, faded and worn. He took the time to really look at her, and Harry was struck suddenly by how different she appeared than she had the last time he had seen her, in Madam Malkin's. He despised her for who she was and for her association with the Dark Arts, but she was caught up in her son's situation. Harry wondered where Malfoy was now and if he had any idea what his mum was up to at the moment.

"Because I can help you, Potter."

_Help me with what?_ he wanted to ask, but he didn't get the chance because Narcissa Malfoy, wife to Lucius and mum to Draco, pushed herself up to the balls of her feet and pressed her mouth against his, and a charge raced up and down his spine before spreading out all over. Electricity crackled out to the tips of his fingers and toes and then drew back in again to the base of his spine and it was much better than any Rejuvenation Potion he'd ever taken. His wand dropped to the floor and he held on to Narcissa's shoulders as she deepened the kiss.

_You're snogging Malfoy's mum!_ a voice inside his head shouted.

_It's brilliant!_ another voice shouted back, and the first promptly shut up.

_Don't you snog my mother!_ said a third that sounded an awful lot like Malfoy, and Harry didn't know why he would have a voice that sounded like Malfoy in his head and he needed the air, so he pulled back and took in a large gulp. 

"You want to help me, don't you, Potter?" Narcissa asked, looking up at him through her lashes. Her chest was heaving somewhat against her robes, a faint bit of colour had risen in her cheeks, and the trousers of his robes weren't as comfortable as they had been a few minutes ago.

He shouldn't want to help her. By all rights, he shouldn't. But she came to him for help, she was in trouble, and that was a very nice snog, much less wet than Cho's had been and more commanding and intoxicating than Ginny's could ever be. 

"What sort of help d'you need?"

"I need you to protect my son." Although her face was set in a stoic expression and her voice was clipped, Harry knew she was worried. Her lower lip trembled and he was overcome with the urge to suck on it to still it. He coughed and shifted his weight.

No doubt Draco needed protecting; he wasn't a killer, and he hadn't been able to make himself one, not even for Voldemort. Snape had been the one to kill Dumbledore instead, and Harry reckoned that Voldemort probably didn't take too kindly to Malfoy bollixing up his orders.

"I don't know where he is, other than that he's with Snape." 

"My son is no longer safe with Severus," Narcissa said carefully. "He doesn't realise this, but it is so."

Harry ran a hand through his hair as he considered this. No, Malfoy probably wasn't safe. If he had been ordered to kill Dumbledore under the threat of his parents' lives and failed, leaving Snape to do the job, it wasn't safe at all. Draco had failed Voldemort and he would have to suffer the consequences sooner or later. 

In short, Draco Malfoy's days were numbered. 

Harry thought of Malfoy, of how scared he'd sounded on the top of the Tower, of how he lowered his wand before the other Death Eaters came to confront Dumbledore. Harry thought of those things and how he and Malfoy, in one way or another, were now both marked men.

"I'll do it," he said abruptly. "I'll find him. I'll get him. I'll--"

"I knew you would, Harry," she whispered, leaning in. Her lips hovered a hair-breadth away from Harry's and he could feel the warmth of his breath rolling off her lips back against his own. "I knew you would help me." A foot rubbed along his calf just then and Harry couldn't help himself. He propelled himself forward with a low moan, meeting her mouth with his own. Rather than pushing him away, which a small part of him was worried she might, Narcissa returned the kiss, and Harry thought Lucius Malfoy, all things considered, was a lucky bastard.

"I will." Harry pressed his cheek against hers, inhaling once deeply, and then they were kissing again. His glasses kept slipping down and getting in the way, and Harry gave them an impatient shove back up his nose, and then he began to explore every last bit of Narcissa he could reach with his hands. One slid with a feather-light touch along her jaw, then paused to trace the shell of her ear before threading into her thick mane of hair. The other moves across the slope of her shoulder and up along an arm extended above her head. Under the thin fabric of her robes, he could feel how lean she was. Up higher went his hand and then he was touching leather, the leather meant for a Muggle animal that wrapped about her forearms and hands and attached to a low beam in the ceiling. He had Draco Malfoy's mother bound in leather, tied to a ceiling, and he was perfectly all right with that, especially since she had just took his lower lip into her mouth to suck on.

Harry moaned and pushed himself against her thigh, needing some sort of contact _there_. Narcissa granted him with an appreciative smile and arched against him. Her chest pressed against his, warm and soft, and Harry was sixteen and growing harder by the second, so he abandoned logic and right and wrong and rutted against Narcissa mindlessly. The friction felt too good, and Harry couldn't stand up straight; that took too much concentration and he didn't want to concentrate, he wanted to feel. Gasping, he slumped forward against Narcissa, his face pressed into the curve where neck met shoulder. She smelt of grass and smoke and faintly of some expensive perfume that was too stubborn to leave her skin. It wasn't as intoxicating as Amortentia had been, but it was intoxicating enough to give Harry cause to speed up the snapping of his hips. 

"Potter."

With supreme effort, Harry stopped what he was doing and stared up at Narcissa.

"Put it to use." He blinked and wondered if she meant it like he thought she did.

In the next beat, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close, and Harry knew she definitely meant it like he thought she did.

Her legs squeezed and he gasped. "Right," he panted, then began unbuttoning and unzipping and moving clothing out of the way. He sucked in a sharp breath as his drew his cock out of his pants; he was so hard it _hurt_. Narcissa shifted against him, one leg still about his hips, and when he looked down he could see a patch of blonde hair. 

_This is really happening._

Harry laughed at the absurdity of it; he was about to shag Draco Malfoy's mum, whom he'd bound in leather and tied to a ceiling. But it wasn't as though she didn't want him to do it. She'd snogged him. She'd told him to use it. Use it he would.

One hand wrapped around his cock, Harry guided himself to her entrance and stopped himself from pushing in, too caught up in feeling and imagining what would come next. She was wet and hot, and Harry knew she would be, but feeling that wetness and heat against his skin was still surprising, and much better than he imagined it. If he inhaled deep enough, he could even _smell_ the wetness and the heat, and it was fantastic. He doubted he would have time to lick those blonde curls and taste that wetness and heat on his tongue, but he was going to make the most of the time he did have. After all, he'd made a vow to himself earlier that he would enjoy the rest of his day, no matter what.

Narcissa's hips tilted up and canted forward and Harry had no choice but to thrust forward. In he went past her entrance and her body seemed to draw him in, closing around him, and he let out a strangled sob as he moved deeper and deeper within her.

Harry didn't know where to put his hands but he needed to grip them on _something_. Narcissa rolled her hips beneath him and Harry grunted, then reached up and took hold of the first thing he touched - the leather leading her wrists to the rafter. The leather was soft under his skin and Harry held onto it for dear life while trying to figure out how to do all this. It always looked so easy when he'd imagined it, but then again he'd always imagined he'd be doing it while laying down on a four-poster or in the grass on blanket, and he'd always imagined it would be Ginny and not Malfoy's mum. All right, so one time he imagined it was Malfoy's mum, but it had only been after he and Ron had got into a butterbeer drinking contest and he'd drank for five straight hours before passing out, pissed beyond belief, on Seamus' four-poster. 

Cautiously, he pushed up into her and then pulled back, groaning at the sensation of leaving that brilliant surrounded feeling behind. A low keen escaped Narcissa's lips and built Harry's confidence up; he must be doing it right. Buoyed, Harry began thrusting in and out with abandon. This was brilliant. This was perfect. Why hadn't he done this with Ginny? 

Harry was having real sex just like any other normal sixteen-year-old boy. He even felt normal, like he was Just Harry. Just Harry, who was Just Having Sex and it was wicked. Having sex was much better than anything else he'd ever done, even better than catching the Snitch. 

His nerves were all bundled, he was more alert than ever, even the smallest movement Narcissa made went right to his cock, and he was going to have to think of McGonagall in her knickers if he didn't want to come right then. Harry certainly didn't want to come, he wanted this to last, so he thought of McGongall in her knickers.

Narcissa moaned in his ear and dug her heel into his arse, and not even images of McGonagall in tartan-striped knickers was helping matters.

"W-wait," Harry choked, and she stilled against him.

_One Snitch. Two Snitch. Three Snitch. Four--_

"Okay," Harry breathed, then gathered up his strength and drove into her. 

As Narcissa writhed against him and the sound of their skins slapping together filled his ears, it occurred to him that he should probably feel guilty about what he was doing. He'd only just ended things with Ginny, this was Malfoy's mum, he didn't care about her, and in fact he rather detested her. But Harry didn't feel guilty about shagging Narcissa. Maybe he should. This was naughty of him and if anyone found out, he'd - no, they'd - be in so much trouble. 

The more Harry thought about not feeling guilty, he began to feel guilty. What was wrong with him? Who was he trying to fool? He wasn't Just Harry; he was Harry Potter and he should most certainly not be shagging Lucius Malfoy's wife.

Just then Narcissa clenched down hard around him and he forgot about feeling guilty over not feeling guilty and - "I think I'm gonna--" he gasped – he came.

Jelly-legged and exhausted, Harry summoned up the last of his strength and pulled out of her; the only thing holding him upright were his fingers clenched tightly around the leather straps.

"The straps," Narcissa said, breathing hard.

"What?" Harry tilted his head, struggling to keep his eyes open, and then: "Oh. Gimme a minute."

Squinting against the bright light still eminating from the tip, he crouched down to retrieve his wand. " _Nox._ " After conjuring Bluebell Flames to provide a bit of light, he freed Narcissa from her bindings. Harry then busied himself with rearranging his clothing, avoiding her gaze. "What are you going to do for me?" he asked, buttoning the fly of his trousers.

"In addition to what just happened?"

Harry straightened and stared at her. "Yeah. In addition to what just happened." He paused, then patted at his robes, just over where the inner pocket was. "I still have your wand, you know."

She nodded. "I know."

"Well?" 

"You find my son and protect him, and I'll give you information." 

Harry stared at her blankly, not understanding. And then it dawned on him. The Horcruxes. Of _course_.

"How do I know I can trust you?" he asked. This was Lucius Malfoy's wife, and after everything he'd just been through with her, he wouldn't put anything past her. 

"The same way I know I can trust you," she returned evenly. 

In that moment, Harry finally understood what it was Lily did for him, because Narcissa was doing the same for Draco, in a way. A mother's love is what had kept him alive all these years, and maybe, just maybe it would keep Malfoy alive as well.

"You can trust me," Harry said quietly. 

And she could.


End file.
